


In Which The Author Beats Up Two Idiots

by SombraLuna



Series: Marvel Stuff [1]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Clint Barton-centric, Comics/Movie Crossover, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sorry Not Sorry, clint never meets laura, dont worry all the deaths are past, im so sorry if i add characters, mostly not matt, some of this is a vent, sorry guys but :/
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-09-23 06:47:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17075393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SombraLuna/pseuds/SombraLuna
Summary: Clint is empty and drowning after the war, and Matt is dealing with the emptiness of his city. Of course, the two take a long time to realize they can ease each other's emptiness.Matt can tell everything about a person except for what they fully look like, but when he meets Clint, it's the opposite.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> listen man i've been getting random ideas and if i dont get them all out now my supernatural fic will never get finished so please just let me write this please for the love of tony stark
> 
> (sidenote) michael in the bathroom came on and i died so yes of course thisll be angsty like how it should be

He's been running for 27 years. Never get close to anyone, pretend to laugh, escape, repeat. There are not enough miracles to go around that can save Clint. He's lost before he's met the Avengers, and he's lost before he meets Daredevil. There's no hope for him, he thinks, and when he wakes up in the morning ready to run or dodge punches he starts to realize something is wrong. He's been in SHIELD for long enough to know that no one is going to even try and beat him up. Hawkeye is renowned throughout SHIELD because he's the only one who is even close to the same level as Black Widow. Hawkeye is a badass motherfucker whose morning face unnerves even Nick Fury, and Clinton Francis Barton is an adolescent teenage boy who lives in a circus and can run away from adults.

He meets the Avengers and fits in too well, he thinks. They laugh fondly and grumble at his half-assed half-true jokes. They spar with him and comfort him when he feels like shit about screwing up on a mission. They're a family, or what he thinks a family should be like, and maybe he loves them. He'd still betray any of them in a heartbeat. He does, when Loki gets into his head. It's not the first time, nor is it the last, but it's the most painful. They look at him differently after that, as if he's no longer their friend but just another man they have to team up with to get a job done. So, of course, he closes himself off the world. Natasha, of course, gets scared, but he tells her it's just because he's gotten his hearing back and he needs time to adjust. She complies, but he knows that won't hold her off forever. 

After the Civil War, Clint gives up again. He's fucked Tony over, and he knows it, but he can't handle anyone telling him his abilities make him undeserving to be alive. He's been told that before, but not because of his abilities.

"Barton, you gonna eat that?" Tony asks for his toast. It's the first real sentence he's said to Clint in the past four days, and the first sentence anyone's said to him in the past three. 

All eyes on him, Clint shrugs. "Nah. I think I'm gonna just have coffee." 

"Clint, that's the entire coffeepot," Steve says. 

He stares Captain America in his eyes. "Yeah, it sure is." He takes a gulp and watches Steve Rogers almost have a stroke. Snickering, he walks off to the gym and distracts himself by doing mindless parkour and practising that move Natasha tried to show him yesterday. He flinches when Peter walks through the door, resulting in him falling off of his 18-foot perch. 

"Dammit, Parker!" He hisses. 

"Shit, sorry," the boy amends. "I didn't see you there, Mr Barton." 

"Clint." 

"What?" 

"Please call me Clint, okay?" 

The boy straightens up. "Okay, Clint." 

They stand perfectly still for a few moments before Peter breaks the silence. "Have you ever been to Hell's Kitchen?" 

"Yeah, I think. Why?" 

"Met a cool superhero there. Well, he's more of a vigilante, but so am I, so..." 

"What's his name?" 

"Daredevil." 

Clint forgets about that conversation until after Peter Parker is dead and Tony Stark is dying. Thanos snapped his fingers, and Clint survived. Had he met Laura, he would have found that he had married her, had children, and lost her and them to Thanos. 


	2. Hell's Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint sinks down against the wall of a building and buries his face in his hands. He hears gunshots and sirens in the distance, and almost takes out his hearing aids, but decides it would be best if he didn't. He vaguely remembers what life was like before everyone he loves left or died, and just as he's about to sink into his own suffering, he hears a rough voice. 
> 
> "What's a famous archer doing in Hell's Kitchen?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want a mood for this chapter just listen to the daredevil soundtrack written by john paesano, especially Raindrops or To Be a Hero
> 
> yes i do plan on finishing my spn fic, but it's taking some time since AO3 keeps crashing on me

He hasn't slept in three days, powering himself on Redbull and nightmares. So, Clint finds himself stumbling aimlessly through the streets of Hell's Kitchen. His delirious mind begs for sleep, but he yearns to find someone. He's just not sure who. 

The desecrated streets of Hell's Kitchen are the worst the city has ever looked. He passes a flaming car, and wonders vaguely if anyone had been driving it and turned into dust, or if it had simply been lit for warmth. He's vaguely aware how the air of Hell's Kitchen sticks to him and coats his lungs, burning him from the inside out, but his attention focuses towards a small shrine lit with candles. It sits outside, filled with hundreds of pictures of men, women, animals, and children.  _To Dust They Shall Return_ , it reads. Clint resists the urge to vomit after realizing these people believe the rapture is coming, and they have been cursed for their sins. 

"Awful, isn't it?" Clint hears the fluttering of wings and turns around to see a teenager standing behind him. 

"Yeah," he breathes. His voice sounds raspy from not using it in two days. 

"Hawkeye."

"Yeah."

Clint notices everything about the kid, from the way he's standing, to the blue tinge to his skin. 

"Vigilante," the kid says as if that explains a damned thing. "I'm not a hero, but I'll be damned if I let M-" he coughs. " _Daredevil_ suffer in this city. He's drowning." 

He watches the way the firelight from the candles flickers off the boy's face. "You human?"

The boy shrugs. "Half." 

"Cool." He feels fuzzy, most likely due to the aching he's been covering up with caffeine and archery. 

"Clint, please." Clint Barton isn't commonly recognized by his name, due to most not knowing it. He never really says his name to people, and the only time civilians hear it is when Nat or Tony call him that in a mission. 

"You..." 

The kid smiles, but it's not happy. "I know a lot about you, and I know that you're going to get them back." Clint blinks, and the kid is gone, leaving nothing but a single feather behind. 

Clint sinks down against the wall of a building and buries his face in his hands. He hears gunshots and sirens in the distance, and almost takes out his hearing aids, but decides it would be best if he didn't. He vaguely remembers what life was like before everyone he loves left or died, and just as he's about to sink into his own suffering, he hears a rough voice. 

"What's a famous archer doing in Hell's Kitchen?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya'll best be following me on tumblr or even commenting because i love interacting with you guys it makes my day


	3. The Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint wasn't always the depressed yet self-obsessed archer with an ego. He was a kid, once. 
> 
> The air is hazy with humidity and heat, and Clinton and Barney Barton are playing outside. They were playing hide-and-seek, but it got boring with only two people, so Clint suggests that they play spies. It's the first time Clint has ever thought about how cool it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw in case you dont know the boy with wings is like a character that kinda represents myself and my frustration at these two characters being idiots so i made him up to make things fun so yeah he kinda is just there to drop hints about each other
> 
> sorry for the angst but I wanted to be true to all the timelines that were set up for clint without being that guy who fucks everything over like i though yes i will mash together all the timelines and screw it up. But yeah, Hawkeye had an awful childhood and I wanted to like set up why he's the way he is. Why he doesn't trust and why he gives up when he doesn't want to face it and runs away.

**songs I listened to while writing this and also songs that are A Mood for this story**

[Vienna Teng: Hymn of Axiom](https://youtu.be/KmuG4FC-n30) (i actually got to play this for my school in marching band) 

[With Each Sunset (comes a new day) by Richard Saucedo](https://youtu.be/IUyl9WXxAjg) (i played this as a ballad my first year of marching band) 

[I Will Wait: Mumford and Sons](https://youtu.be/25tVuKIwQdQ) Mood for my pain

[You Will Be Found: Dear Evan Hansen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSfH2AuhXfw) :) because Matt and Clint are stupid and I want to Yell At Them to stop being dumb and also give them a smooch

* * *

 

_Clint wasn't always the depressed yet self-obsessed archer with an ego. He was a kid, once._

The air is hazy with humidity and heat, and Clinton and Barney Barton are playing outside. They were playing hide-and-seek, but it got boring with only two people, so Clint suggests that they play spies. It's the first time Clint has ever thought about how cool it is. Barney agrees, even though he's not that big of a fan, and says his weapon will be a gun. Clint says he will have a bow-and-arrow, and Barney laughs. 

"Clint, spies don't have bows!" 

Clint hits him dead on the forehead with a stick. "Sure they do! Guns kill people, Barney. Bows can do other things." 

"Like what?" 

Clint frowns. "What if you made special arrows? Like, a grappling hook arrow, or an electric one, or a sticky one?" 

Barney nods in approval. "Okay, that's pretty cool. I mean, it's not as cool as a super spy who can take people out with a gun, but it's cool." Clint throws another stick at him and runs off to make a tiny bow. 

Barney finds a gun-shaped stick and calls it his gun. Clint, having tied a rope to a particularly bendy stick, comes running back. "Got my bow!" 

Barney nods in consideration as if he is a real super spy and not ten years old. Clint grins and does an attempt at a cartwheel when his brother throws a stick back at him. 

"Clint! Barney! Get in here!" Their father, as usual, is drunk and pissed, and Clint immediately turns into the shell of a child he becomes around his father. Barney adopts a similar facade, rendering both children slaves to Harold Barton. 

"Coming, dad," they respond.

"What did you just say to me?" 

"Coming,  _sir."_   It would take the most intuitive to find the hatred the children possess for Harold, and yet, in a mere few days, both he and Edith Barton will be dead, leaving Clint and Barney orphans, but in the meantime, they receive a hearty beating for not immediately calling him sir. Clint, in the future, will realize his father's sick powerplay and will feel revulsion at being called sir. 

* * *

 

Clint and Barney spend six years in an orphanage, before finally leaving. A circus is in town, and the two boys jump on board. Anything to get out of this hellhole town. Clint, unsurprisingly, becomes skilled with hitting targets. In just a year, he never misses  _anything_. Barney, on the other hand, is a stockier boy who isn't quite as agile as his brother but is still quite skilled -albeit not nearly as well- with hitting targets and shooting

The boys are fine until one day, Clint walks in to see Trickshot and the Swordsman discussing selling drugs with a man in a suit. Clint, overhearing, decides then and there that he's going to do something. 

Barney and Trickshot turn on Clint, and the Swordsman escapes. Clint is left unconscious with two broken ribs and bleeding. He's twelve. After that, Clint decides he wants to leave, but he doesn't have money. Thankfully, now without his brother and mentor, he becomes  _Hawkeye the Trickshot Archer._ He backflips and shoots his way to the top, or almost. 

"Hawkeye. Weird name for a kid." A man walks into his small corner of the tent. "You any good?" 

Clint raises an eyebrow. "Dunno." 

The man slaps him. "Don't mumble, boy." Clint clenches his fists as he sees his father through that face, but then he is being shoved roughly to the ground. "Leave us," the man says to the Ringmaster.

"Who are you?" Clint asks. 

"I'm the man who owns every single cell on your body, do you hear me?" Clint nods. "I bought this circus, and I have big plans for you." 

The man picks Clint up by his hair. "You look like a girl. Maybe I should treat ya like one since I hear ya like to cause trouble." 

Clint's heart sinks and he starts to panic. This man -so much like his father- is suggesting a crime far worse than murder in Clint's eyes. 

"P-please sir, I promise I'll behave! I can shoot while flipping in midair! I've been practising!" He clenches his jaw and wills himself not to cry. 

That night, Clint does not go to sleep, nor for the next two years. 

 

He lives his life on the road, homeless, angry, and skittish. He never asks for food or shelter, and by the time he's 18, he's Hawkeye, no longer Clinton Francis Barton. Most people see a disgruntled young man who's almost  _too_  malnourished and immediately look away. No one wants to ask, and no one wants to fight him. he's thankful for that, as he sits in a diner booth and uses five dollars -the only money he has- to buy a meal. The waitress says he doesn't have to pay and offers him a chance to stay at her house for a bit. 

"Are you sure? You don't even know me."

She smiles, and it's soft and beautiful. "I don't need to. You look about sixteen to eighteen, which means you don't deserve to suffer." 

"I guess. But only if it's no trouble." 

She gives him another smile, and Clint almost feels his heart melt. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who continually supports this work  
> http://tumblr.sombraluna.com 
> 
> my twitter is @sombralunaart and so is my Instagram


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want this chapter to be ridiculously sad, so this is where Clint loses people, gains people, and gets angry. I was angry while writing this chapter too, so hey let's transmit some VIBES

Clint almost falls in love with the girl who takes him home. He would have, he thinks, if she weren't too perfect. She has beautiful red hair and green eyes, and she's always noticing everything around her. She lets him stay with her for a month, and she never notices anything odd about him, like how he's always fidgeting, or how he never misses a single shot on the gun range. She even laughs at his jokes and helps him to get a GED, but still, all he feels for her is nothing.

"Clint?"

He snaps out of his trance. "Yeah?" 

"Do you have parents?" She's sitting across from him, with a strange look in her eyes.

"No. I haven't had them in a long time," he says. "Why?" 

She shrugs and gets up. "Dunno. Just wondered where you came from, that's all." 

He fiddles with a small crossbow he's built. "I have a brother. He's my only survivin' family, but I haven't seen him in years. I don't think he'd be too hot on seein' me anytime soon." 

"I'm sorry." 

He tilts his head. "Nah, don't be. I'm fine with bein' alone, really. I mean, I don't even live here full time. I'm more of an introvert, ya know?" 

She smiles softly. "You still deserve someone to love you, Clint. You will be loved, I know you will." 

Clint doesn't notice he's crying until his vision goes blurry and he's shaking. Clarissa drags him into her arms and he lets out sob after sob, shaking until he's exhausted and has a migraine. 

"Clar, I-" 

She smiles and kisses his forehead. "I know you're gonna leave soon, right? It's okay. Maybe we'll see each other again soon." 

He meets her eyes. "Whaddya mean?" 

"I saw your stuff. I know you're planning on heading far away, right?" 

He hangs his head. "I'll be back, just not for a while. I got offered a job up in Canada, an' I gotta go up there." He's lying through his teeth, but she seems to believe it. 

"Clint! I'm so proud of you!" 

"Yeah, it pays really well, too." In truth, he doesn't want to become attached to her. He's been staying with her for about a week and then leaving for a month or so, but he's starting to realize that if anyone hurt Clarissa, he'd kill them, and so that night, he leaves and never looks back.

 

* * *

 

 

Clint is twenty-three now, and he's a fugitive from the law, like an idiot. His life has become a hell of running and sleeping in trees like a bird. They don't call him Hawkeye for nothing, he supposes. No other assassin is unable to miss a single target, and so he finds that various nefarious organizations take notice of him. He never permanently joins a single one, but drifts around killing higher profile targets until Nick Fury of SHIELD takes notice. 

Clint enters his small motel room to spot a tall dark man with an eyepatch watching him. "Clinton Francis Barton," he says. "I've heard about what you can do." 

Clint takes a bite out of the apple he's been eating and tries to smile. "I didn't realize I was getting interrogated today, sir." Another bite. "You gonna stay, or nah?" 

Fury raises an eyebrow slowly. "You've got a lot of spunk in you, boy, for someone who didn't cry once when his parents died." 

Clint swallows the last of his apple and tosses it into the trash can without even looking. "Of course I cried." He's resisting clenching his jaw, but something about this man says that he can't show the slightest sign of discomfort. "I'll have you know I cried after the shock wore off. I was a kid, anyways. Didn't have emotional maturity an' all that bullshit." 

"My name is Nicholas Fury. I'm the director of SHIELD, a spy organization if you will." 

"You offerin' me a job, or arresting me?" 

Fury smiles. "Offering you a job." 


	5. I wouldn't Mug A Blind Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt decides to overplay the blind card. "I smell blood and I heard fighting. Please tell me you're not here to mug me." He hears the other man's heart hitch when he smiles and tilts his head. 
> 
> "I wouldn't mug a blind man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes I forget that Matt tries to beat the shit out of the Avengers even if he likes them so we're keeping this to the comics now!! Listen, I love the MCU, I really do, but I'd rather stick to the characterizations of their comic selves, although Charlie Cox's Daredevil is very close to the comics so that's why the Netflix DD is included in the tags.

Daredevil's grip adjusts on his billy clubs as if he's going to beat the hell out of Clint, but he seems to change his mind last minute. Clint is awkwardly stumbling to his feet.

"You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, huh?" 

Clint is vaguely aware of the buzzing in his head growing louder until the only thing that isn't  _vibrating_ is the hell-themed vigilante of Hell's Kitchen. His hearing aids are ringing and screaming in his ears, but he doesn't move to take them out, and just barely manages to catch a hissed out "That's what they call me." Clint's neck is burning and his cheeks are freezing, and he wants to vomit his guts up on the sidewalk, except he hasn't eaten in five days, and  _oh_ _._ The Devil of Hell's Kitchen is  _speaking to him_.

"Why the hell are  _you_ in my city?" 

Clint sighs. "Please tell me you're not another one of those assholes who mistake me for Iron Fist." 

Daredevil cocks his head and frowns. "Oh my god, you're fucking serious." 

Clint almost shrieks at hearing the Devil swear. He knows for a fact that the man's  _Catholic_ , (how ironic is that) and doesn't really like the Avengers, which is fair. He almost loses it remembering seeing a video from SHIELD files that show Daredevil admitting to a woman he's saved that he's Catholic, and manages to croak out "And you're Catholic." 

Daredevil freezes and clocks Clint upside the head so hard that he sees stars, and then everything goes black. 

 

* * *

 

 

Ronin drags his blade across the crook of his arm to clean off the blood and whirls around in time to see a man stare at him. This particular man has red hair, a blind cane, and a familiar jawline. He entertains the idea of letting the man pass through without a hint he was even there, but a short time spent temporarily blinded reminds him that the man must have good hearing, so he pulls his mask up to uncover his mouth and walks closer to the man. 

"Excuse me, sir?" 

His head tilts over the Ronin's direction and his mouth quirks up in a familiar smile, revealing dimples. "I smell blood and I heard fighting. Please tell me you're not here to mug me." 

Ronin doesn't laugh, but he sheathes his blade. "I wouldn't mug a blind man." 

The redhead snickers. "Would you mind leading me around the bodies? I hope no one's dead." 

"No, they're just unconscious. I'm a cop," he lies through his teeth, and with such ease that his heartbeat doesn't change for a second even though his palms sweat. 

"You sound familiar," the man muses. "Have we met?" 

Ronin ignores the pang of familiarity and sudden, yet slight anger that rises in him from this man. "I don't think so." He clenches his fist slightly and holds out his arm as he leads the other man around the bodies. He makes extra care for this man not to get blood on his shoes, so as not to alert anyone to his presence in this alley. "Have a good night." 

The man smiles at him. "Matthew." He holds out his hand. "And you?" 

"Ronin." He removes his glove quickly and takes the other man's hand. 

Matthew walks off down the street, tapping his white cane as if nothing had happened.  

* * *

 

 

Matt hears fighting and the sound of a blade being drawn and wastes no time sneaking into the alley the noises are coming from. It's a bunch of thugs attacking a man masked in leather, and the man is winning. His eyes widen behind his glasses when he catches the scent of the Avenger he beat over the head in Hell's Kitchen. Hawkeye.

"Excuse me, sir?" Huh. The leather-clad assassin speaks with his voice, too. Good to know. That means the five men he's just killed must be criminals worthy of death, which means that Matt can't whip out the Devil tonight. 

Matt decides to overplay the blind card. "I smell blood and I heard fighting. Please tell me you're not here to mug me." He hears the other man's heart hitch when he smiles and tilts his head. 

"I wouldn't mug a blind man." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for almost 4100 reads on my twitter fic, and thank you for almost 450 on this one!! it means a lot. 
> 
> twitter: @sombralunaart  
> tumblr: sombraluna  
> Instagram: @sombralunaart


	6. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke Cage's bar has been abandoned for months now, ever since Luke made the executive decision to shut it down. Really, after the Snap, he and Jessica couldn't bear to enter it again, so they left it when they left with Danny Rand. Now, Clint's almost glad, because that means that he doesn't have to return to Bed-Stuy. 
> 
> The second he enters the bar, the late day light illuminates Matt's bright red hair, and Clint sucks in a breath, only to cough it back out again at the smell. It's been about a week since he saw the boy here, and his blood is pooled in matted clumps on the floor, surrounded by flies. Matt turns pale and gags. 
> 
> "Shit, Matt, are you okay?" 
> 
> "Super sense of smell. Blood is... Uh... I didn't think you meant he actually bled everywhere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys i only really write this fic when im sad or really inspired also happy 413 i cosplayed Kankri today

Ronin closes his eyes and turns off his hearing aids as the sensory overload of New York shuts off, and he is alone again. Natasha had been calling Clint, but the sharpshooter no longer resided in the city, and her cries fall on deaf ears. 

"And as the west wind blows the ashes of my enemies and friends alike, I breathe in their dust so that they may be a part of me." Ronin jolts upright from where he'd been sitting, cringing as the dust settled on the empty barstool swirls through the air once more. He's reading the lips of the young man who had spoken to him about Daredevil and then vanished. He pushes his hearing aids back in.

"You never told me your name." 

The boy smiles. "I am the winged angel to pull you towards sin, and the Devil is your angel to save you from your fall." He treads lightly, stepping gingerly over broken glass and spilt vodka left from both Ronin and the deceased patrons of the once vibrant business. Ronin's sharp eyes notice blood dripping down his back, and as the boy turns he notices two gashes where his wings should be. 

"Heaven ain't real, so I'm assuming your fallen angel tactic is to make me trust you." 

The boy's eyes flicker, and a path clears itself, kicking up more dust. He slowly saunters towards the assassin, as if he hasn't lost two limbs. "Don't want your trust. I just want you to listen. Help him. Save him,  _Hawkeye_."

Ronin- no-  _Clint_ blinks, and the boy is gone, leaving nothing but his blood on the floor. 

 

* * *

 

 

"Matt Murdock speaking." 

"Cut the shit, Daredevil, I know who you are." Clint is standing in a telephone booth outside of Manhattan because he has decided now would be a perfect time to call up the vigilante lawyer Murdock. 

"Hawkeye." 

Clint winces. "Yeah." 

"With your sharp eyes, did it hurt to see everyone around you turning to dust?" 

"With your super-senses, I bet you sure _felt_ the Dusting, huh?" 

Daredevil-Matt- clears his throat. "How do you know who I am?" 

Clint almost smiles, almost feels like his old self again. "I'm Hawkeye. I'm the best damn SHIELD agent since Natasha Romanov, and your little friend wants me to help you." 

The resounding _click_ and beeping of the call cut short have Clint in awe. He feels the steady thrum of his pulse increase as the excitement of investigating this man springs to light in his mind, and he knows that whoever Matthew Murdock is, he's definitely Daredevil, and he definitely knows who the "Fallen Angel" kid is. He steps out of the phone booth, almost bumping into an elderly woman, and damn near grins. 

 

* * *

 

 

They meet in a small diner, one that Frank Castle and Karen Page had met in months or even years ago, though only Karen Page would know, had she been alive. Matt taps his cane through the aisle, stopping at Clint's table, and taking a seat. His foot is possessed with the urge to tap, and he wants to fiddle with his hands, but Elecktra's voice comes to his mind and tells him not to show weakness. 

"What do you want from me?"

The diner is almost vacant, only a small waitress and her wife, the cook, run the place, while the only other customer is an old man with hearing aids that no longer function. The evening golden rays light up the Devil's face, warming his cheeks and casting an angelic aura upon him. Clint's eyes marvel at the beauty for only a moment, before he takes a sip of his coffee and blows his nose. 

"I didn't recognize you when we met in the alley, Mister Murdock, but then I remembered your voice and when you knocked me out in Hell's Kitchen."

Matt runs his hand through his hair, taming it. "I panicked. I thought the Avengers were after me, and it was a fight-or-flight moment. I didn't want to hurt you, I promise." 

"Well, first of all, I can damn well take a hit, so you hit really fuckin' hard. Second, I'd like to know more about you." 

The ginger clenches and unclenches his hands, before motioning the waitress over to their table. "Water and the bean soup, ma'am, and may I say, everything here smells delicious." The woman smiles and walks off, and Matt turns back to Clint. "Okay, what do you want to know?" 

"Who is the kid that needs me to save you?" 

Matt raises an eyebrow. "What?" 

"White hair, five eight, wings... I met him in Luke Cage's old bar..." 

"I'm blind. I have no clue what anyone looks like, Mr Barton." 

"Right. Totally... Totally didn't forget that." 

The corner of Matt's mouth twitches as he gratefully accepts his soup. "What did the kid say?" 

Clint frowns. "Uh... Somethin' about you bein' my angel and him bein' my devil... Oh!" He sits up straight. "He said he was breathing in the dust of his enemies. He was also bleeding all over the place. His wings were... gone." 

Matt's jaw clenches and his memory stirs. "Take me there." 

"What?" 

Matt takes a sip of his soup, enjoying the flavour before replying. "Take me there. If my theory is right, I should be able to recognize him since his scent should be everywhere." 

Clint rolls his eyes back and sighs loudly. "Fine," he grouses. "But you'd better stop gettin' into my business." 

 

* * *

 

 

Luke Cage's bar has been abandoned for months now, ever since Luke made the executive decision to shut it down. Really, after the Snap, he and Jessica couldn't bear to enter it again, so they left it when they left with Danny Rand. Now, Clint's almost glad, because that means that he doesn't have to return to Bed-Stuy. 

The second he enters the bar, the late day light illuminates Matt's bright red hair, and Clint sucks in a breath, only to cough it back out again at the smell. It's been about a week since he saw the boy here, and his blood is pooled in matted clumps on the floor, surrounded by flies. Matt turns pale and gags. 

"Shit, Matt, are you okay?" 

"Super sense of smell. Blood is... Uh... I didn't think you meant he  _actually_ bled everywhere." 

Clint gingerly steps over the largest pool of blood and jumps over the wooden counter gracefully. "Recognize him?" He grabs a bottle of vodka and contemplates pouring it on the flies. 

"Midnight Angel." 

"Huh?" 

"He's a teenage superhero like Spider-Man who's famous for having wings and a healing factor. I... I thought he died." Matt makes his way over to a bar stool and snatches the vodka out of Clint's hand. "Don't mess with him." 

"What?" Clint pounds his hand on the bar, not eliciting so much as a flinch from Matt. "He's a kid!" 

"A kid who  _kills_. He's not Spidey. He's not looking for a fight either. I don't know what he wants, but if he thinks that I can steer you in the right direction, he's probably right." 

"I'm always right." 

"Malachi." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: sombraluna  
> insta and twitter: @sombralunaart
> 
> leave comments and cheese


	7. Run Boy, Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He still remembers the way his soul felt when he watched the first one dust. Almost 100 feet away, and for not the first time, his almost inhuman eyesight was a curse. She shrieked as if she were burning, and slowly dissipated into nothing. She collapsed into a pile of dust in the arms of her lover, as he too began to fade. Clint remembers the way his heart stayed still as if he were calm and ready to die. But he didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god why is disturbed so good

He still remembers the way his soul felt when he watched the first one dust. Almost 100 feet away, and for not the first time, his almost inhuman eyesight was a curse. She shrieked as if she were burning, and slowly dissipated into nothing. She collapsed into a pile of dust in the arms of her lover, as he too began to fade. Clint remembers the way his heart stayed still as if he were calm and ready to die. But he didn't. 

 _Tony's still missing in space, and I have a feeling he's not dead, Clint._ Natasha's voice replays over and over in his mind, long after he'd thrown away all of his StarkTech and disabled the comms in his hearing aids. He'd been on a "mission" as Ronin when she'd called. He listened to the voicemail. Natasha never left voicemails, which meant she knew he'd hear it. 

 _Clint, please._ Her voice still cracks in his memories, on the brink of tears. He closes his eyes, and in his memories all he can see is her. 

"Clint, please." 

Clint shakes his head. Right. He's back in Luke's bar, with Matthew Murdock and Malachi Cera. He's fine. It's just the blood getting to him... Oh yeah. Malachi, the kid who's been following him around and is  _definitely not_ a registered super-powered individual who Matt Murdock is very concerned about. Wait, why does he care about what Murdock thinks? Oh, yeah, he's Daredevil, who is  _hella scary._ Yeah. He definitely doesn't think about how if Matt attacked him while he was Ronin, he'd totally kill him... No, not at all. 

"Malachi, what's been going on?" Matt breaks the silence again, his voice an angelic chorus in the chaos of Clint's mind. 

The boy runs a hand through his short hair. "The deaf leading the blind, how amusing," he notes. His voice is like that of everyone Clint's ever been hurt by. It's callous and cold, and Clint  _shivers_. Malachi's eyes meet his, and he smiles. "Barton, I know you're scared right now, but things are going to be just fine." Clint breaks into a cold sweat and the only thing he wants is to never hear Malachi's voice again, so he does what he does best. He runs. 


	8. Listen, Matt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint’s already taken off with the woman in arms and hasn’t noticed Malachi’s sudden appearance. Matt scowls and faces the boy, and does something he’d never do in his right mind. He throws his Billy club, hitting Malachi square on the forehead.
> 
> With swift and decisive motion, Malachi jumps down from his perch on the fire escape. His wings, his usual weapons, don’t flare out. Instead, he kicks straight out at Matt, missing as Matt jumps to the side.
> 
> “Matt, don’t do this,” he advises, but if Matt could see, he’d see red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont have any brain cells left to talk about hawkdevil because my friend wont shut up about homestuck why did i have to make this a slow burn

“Leave him.”

 “What?”

 Malachi sighs and scrubs a hand down his face with an air of frustration. “No matter how much he runs, he won’t make it far.”

 “Running is what he’s good at,” Matt counters.

  “He has all the time in the world, but he’s not going anywhere. The second I decide as such, he’ll end up back here, with us.”

Matt grunts and pounds his fist on the wooden counter, making Malachi flinch. “Goddammit! You told me -no- you _promised_ me that you wouldn’t go messing around with space and time itself!” He, of course, references 

Malachi frowns. “Actually, I was going to say I’ve got the Avengers, specifically Natasha, on speed dial and Clint’s been avoiding them.”

Matt steps away from the bar which he’s been seated at, walking to stand directly in front of the blood on the floor, which is now soaking into the boards and disappearing in Malachi’s presence. He rolls his unseeing eyes behind his glasses and lets out a small puff of air.

“You have been messing around with timelines, though.”

Malachi, with an air of insouciance that would make even Black Cat’s skin crawl smiles slowly. “So? I had to. Someone was trying to basically retcon our entire existence. It’s not a big deal.”

Matt steps onto the area where the blood had been, the rot and smell already fading in his mind. “Which timeline is this?”

“I’ve lost count.” He turns away and stalks towards the exit Clint had run out of. “616 is the main universe and timeline, and right now I think we’re somewhere past the two-thousands.”

“Come on.”

“Huh?”

“I want you to tell me everything, but first, I hear a woman crying for help. _My help_.”

Malachi steps forwards, body tense. The fading light shining through Luke’s bar illuminates his eyes. Of course, Matt can’t see the sudden emotion flaming from the very windows to his soul, or the way his brow furrows, or even how his fists clench. “I’ll go.”

“Absurd.”

“I think you’re too angry to go. I think you’ll accidentally kill that man if you go. Matt, you’ve had everything taken from you, and if I know you, -and trust me, I do- you’ll let your anger and sorrow out upon that man, and then you’ll be no better than Frank Castle.”

Matt responds by unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his Daredevil costume underneath, and his cowl in his pocket. “I find it almost difficult to believe you’re the same kid I met three years ago.” Before Malachi can protest, Matt’s already run out the door and jumped onto the roof.

The cool air rushing against his body is exhilarating, and as he nears the man beating the woman he heard unconscious, he’s filled with the familiar rage. The rage that of course, all vigilantes have. He jumps down and rolls right behind the man. Perhaps the punch that comes next is a tad too rough, considering it immediately knocks the man out, but Matt isn’t thinking about that. Of course, he isn’t. He picks up the woman, with full intent to carry her to a hospital, when she awakens.

Matt’s rage subsides, and he manages to choke out a sentence. “Miss, are you okay?”

She rubs her cheek, which is swollen beyond healthy, and winces. “Not really.”

Shit. For all the incomprehensible garbage that always spews out of Malachi’s mouth, this time he’s made Matt late. The woman is hurt and he feels a rage rise up in him again. “I’m going to take you to a hospital, don’t worry,” he assures her, with false confidence.

“I uh- I don’t have insurance. I think it would be better if you just let me walk to my apartment, Mister Daredevil.”

It’s the “Mister Daredevil” that gets him. Matt knows that by the way she’s clinging to him proves that she’s unable to walk. He also knows she has a concussion and that she needs medical attention.

“I’ll take her.”

The woman stares at the fully-suited Hawkeye that stands at the head of the alley. “Holy shit,” she breathes.

“What? I’ve got insurance.”

If Matt could see, he’d see the obvious concern on Clint’s face and the way the man can barely hold it together for the woman. All Matt knows is that his heartbeat, usually controlled, is going crazy. He almost wants to either punch or kiss Clint right now, because there’s no way he’s revealing his secret identity.

Instead, he gently hands the woman over to Clint, and in the last of the waning light, almost smiles.

“Told you.”

Clint’s already taken off with the woman in arms and hasn’t noticed Malachi’s sudden appearance. Matt scowls and faces the boy, and does something he’d never do in his right mind. He throws his Billy club, hitting Malachi square on the forehead.

With swift and decisive motion, Malachi jumps down from his perch on the fire escape. His wings, his usual weapons, don’t flare out. Instead, he kicks straight out at Matt, missing as Matt jumps to the side.

“Matt, don’t do this,” he advises, but if Matt could see, he’d see red.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talk 2 me cowards  
> twitter and insta: @sombralunaart  
> tumblr: sombraluna


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Clint was just a young boy, his father would beat him. Sure, there were the slaps that most parents of the time dealt out to their children, and yet, Clint showed up to school with black eyes and split lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for parental abuse and also mentions of a vaguely celestial being i guess falling and stuff idk his head and memories are really messed up

When Clint was just a young boy, his father would beat him. Sure, there were the slaps that most parents of the time dealt out to their children, and yet, Clint showed up to school with black eyes and split lips. 

"Hey, Clint?" Barney stared at his brother. "Clint? You hear me, chump?" 

"Huh?" 

"You couldn't hear me again, dummy." 

Clint swung his legs back and forth. "Sorry. Ears are still ringin' from dad smackin' me around yesterday." The two boys sat in a tree on the Barton property, relishing the cool breeze. 

"You know you can fight back, right?" 

Clint tilted his head. "He's m'dad. Can't jus' fight against him." 

Barney sighed. "Fine. Let me teach you to at least fight me, then. You don't wanna be a coward who gets picked on, do ya?" He jumped down from the tree with acrobatic grace. 

"Guess so." 

"C' mon then. Scared?" 

"Not really," Clint mumbled. 

Barney knocked Clint over with a well-aimed punch to the gut. "There's another thing! You can't just mumble because you can't hear! You gotta e-nun-ci-ate. People are gonna give you hell if you ain't gonna speak right." 

Clint struggled to stand back up, swaying on his feet. "Okay." 

He swung at Barney and missed, stumbling over his own feet. The older boy chuckled at his younger brother's misfortune. "Come on, Clint. Hit me with everything you got, and don't stop hittin' for nothin'." 

 

* * *

 

 

 Long ago, Malachi had hung a star. It wasn't the biggest, but it was one of the prettiest. He'd made it himself and everything, and named it something akin to Arrow. Humans nicknamed it the "North Star." It was beautiful, from Earth. So many stories had been written about it, and he'd read every single one.

Then, he'd reincarnated, lost his wings, and got his head messed up. He had stumbled around Earth for who-knows-how-long and whispered false secrets into the ears of whoever was willing to hear. It was quiet suffering. 

Now, as he stands atop a roof, watching the man who so desperately needs a North Star, he feels all the pain flood him at once. Empath, Strange had called it. But he was wrong. Malachi closes his eyes for just a second and replays the memories of Clint's childhood, his life, the dusting... 

His eyes fly open. Shit. The dusting. Ronin. He has only caught fleeting glances in the shape of over-saturated, aged movie lensed films, but the emotion is penetrating. If Matt still had sight or visual memory, his recollections of the dusting would have looked eerily like Clint's. And then it hits him. He must stay out of this, for he is no longer able to save people as he used to. Perhaps, playing at being a hero will not work. And so he plans. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bully me on social media  
> insta and twitter: @sombralunaart  
> tumblr: sombraluna

**Author's Note:**

> http://jack-klines.tumblr.com or http://sombraluna.tumblr.com come say hi! give me prompts or asks for new fics! Let's chat about stuff, and I post art and humour regularly!


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